


Pranks

by McLen



Category: Die Ärzte
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLen/pseuds/McLen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started off as a prank. Nothing special just the usual tour-bullshit</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pranks

It started off as a prank. Nothing special just the usual tour-bullshit. Rod dared him and who was he not to agree? After all he had had a reputation to maintain, being the crazy, awesomely hot and unpredictable punk was not an easy job, especially when you were heading towards fifty and having a little baby boy. Rod eyes had sparkled, not only with liquor he supposed, when he suggested it: Kiss Jan, during a concert. Better, the next concert. Kiss him. With tongue. Hold him,  _make_ him respond. And then Rod had laughed and Bela had smiled and joined in, more for desperation than anything else.   
  
He was looking at Jan, now, Jan being  _him_ being Farin fucking Urlaub, standing in front of the crowd, grinning and laughing all cheerful and sweaty and focused and full of energy. He was playing the guitar like a god, and playing the audience like his life depended on it. He wasn’t ‘Just Jan’ he was ten times bigger , impressive, scarier and appetent.  
  
Kissing Jan. Kissing Jan hadn’t sounded like a terrible task, quite the contrary it had sounded a fun prank to play, a nice gesture and surprise for both band, crew and audience. He had had doubts, of course, because Jan was not just any other guy. He had kissed ordinary guys, normal ones, hell he had kissed extraordinary guys, too, freaks and maniacs, he had kissed them in public on concerts it had never been a big deal. Kissing wasn’t. Kissing Jan was. He’d feel safer faking sex on stage, or retelling him about his latest conquest in every detail, there was  _nothing_ sexual he was ashamed of in front him. Nothing. They had lived together for god’s sake, Jan had seen him with boys and girls, and he had seen him. There had been a time when they shared everything. But he had never kissed Jan.   
  
But he hadn’t only had doubts. He had been curious, too.  _Kissing_ Jan. He had wondered how he might taste, how he might react, how his tongue would feel, how his mouth would be, if he was eager.   
  
He hadn’t really thought about how he wanted to do it. Or when. He wasn’t the type of guy who had a neatly prepared plan, who bothered with over-thinking, he just went for it, did what felt right, and it usually worked for him. Rod’s dare had been a joke, and he had been spontaneous to accept, and doubts and anticipation hadn’t kept him awake at night, no- they were only just surfacing during the concert, and that was normal, right? Right.   
  
“In Bremen, I kept on talking and talking,” Jan said when they had finished ‘Nie wieder Krieg, nie mehr Las Vegas!’, ‘I think we had only played three songs so far and I just couldn’t shut my mouth.”  
  
Bela got up. “You just kept on rambling, until even Rod got impatient and tried to cut you off.”  
  
Farin laughed, “Poor, little sweet Rod. And it takes ages till he gets fed up. . . I still couldn’t stop myself, and kept on talking, and after the concert the guys talked to me and made me promise to never do it again.” Farin looked devilishly at Bela and Bela grinned. He could read him, like a book, those jokes were as predictable as – well- they were predictable a million times played and he knew what Farin’d say and what he’d reply and so on,  
  
“Of course we couldn’t resist,” continued Bela cutting of Farin’s explanation, “We tied him up and punished him, to never do it again,”  
  
“Oh, yesss.” Farin said, faking a little moan.   
  
Bela smirked and turned to head back to his drum-kit.  
  
“So I promised them to talk less, big deal, that still leaves me twenty minutes to chat.” Jan said cocking his eyebrows.  
  
Bela chuckled and turned again, to give a witty remark but just at that instant Farin played the first chords to “Wie am ersten Tag” and Bela noticed that he had been tricked. Of course he didn’t manage to get back to his drums in time, before Farin sang his “Hey du bleib stehn, ich weiß wohin du gehst.” At least his two colleagues couldn’t help themselves and fell into a violent fit of laughter, -after smug glances of course- and thus stopped eventually.   
  
He didn’t even know what he was doing, usually he’d go back to his drums, use the distraction and begin the song anew this time without Farin, to get back at him, and this would go on for some time until they’d be bored and played the song properly. But not this time. He moved as in trance toward that laughing giant, pulled an arm around his neck and pulled him down.   
  
He kissed him, slow and steady, careful but with enough pressure to show his intention. Jan’s laughter died in a blink of an eye, and with it Bela could feel the silence shouting in his head. He tightened his grip and opened his mouth and was almost surprised when he felt Jan kissing him back. There were thousand of thoughts in his head. His head was empty. He was trembling with anticipation he was strangely calm. Moments passed quickly and the time stood still. Jan kissed him. They were in the middle of a concert. The audience was quiet. Jan was so tender, and he tasted- A hand in his wet hair, pulling him closer titling his head. His mouth was so warm, and the way he kissed, was so. . .   
  
And then it was over, and he couldn’t help but pant, and feel sorry about the loss. He opened the eyes he hadn’t even been aware he had closed, and looked at Jan, tried to read him, but Jan of course, was blank like paper. He licked his lips and looked at the crowd had started shouting and clapping, again, they seemed distracted, they seemed  _normal_ , they had taken it as a prank and waited for them to continue. A prank, right. He tried again for eye-contact but Jan looked away, his face a mask, his smile professional and emotionless.   
  
Helplessly he looked at Rod, who just gave him a slightly confused shrug, and then he stumbled back to his drum-kit, uncommonly shaky on his knees. His head was spinning with thoughts but he pushed them all away focusing on the music on the rhythm, on the show, on everything else but this weird feeling in his guts.


End file.
